


All That Matters

by Shamandalie



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, i'm a corpse, sadness is inspirational
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 05:44:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5117651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamandalie/pseuds/Shamandalie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank was sitting in the stands, that's all he knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That Matters

Frank was sitting in the stands, that's all he knew. At first, when he noticed, when he was told - he felt a little lightheaded, hopeful, almost. This hope blended nicely into excitement over the match and for few long moments it was all fine, because Frank was there and they were winning, and, if he was being really honest, those were the only things he's ever needed. Nice things don't last, though, do they.

So, after the final whistle, he realized that it didn't really matter that he was there. The distance between them - the ocean, the time, the silence - it all made everything irrelevant. So he sat in the locker room, like many times before, head hung low. At first, year ago or so, it was hard, really hard, to get used to absence of Frank's comforting voice and soft hands, especially after defeats. Now, well, it was just what it was, and John had started to think that maybe, just maybe, he missed Frank that much at first because he has always been a creature of habit, and so many of his habits consisted of this man...So, his feelings certainly weren't connected to things like love or longing or whatever. ' _Old habits die hard_ ', he would whisper everytime he expected Frank to be there, to say something. Old habits die hard.

But they die. And they did. And it was easy, oh, how easy it was. It was easy to not see each other, since they couldn't. It was easy not to talk to each other, because of...wait, what was it? Sometimes busy schedules, other times time zone. All in all, it was easy. Or just easier, really, beacause everytime they would speak, most of the things would be left unsaid. And everytime they would see each other, it would get harder and harder to look at each other the way they supposed to be looking. So, they let go. And it was better. (Except it wasn't.)

And it didn't matter that he was there, because, did they really know each other now? And would they want to discover that they didn't? John certainly wouldn't know how to take it, so no, thank you very much.

And Frank, he was the littlest of his problems right now. He left, he had his life in United States, he was happy. Fuck, he got his OBE few days back. And John had tried really hard to be happy for him, but comes out it's hard to be happy for anyone when you're fighting relegation, your boss is probably getting fired and Wenger is still considered a good manager.

It made him angry, truth to be told. That Frank could live so easily without him. That he probably didn't go to sleep everynight wondering what was John doing at this particular moment, afraid to actually call and ask. That he could sit in the stands with his father, the result of the match having no influence on his life, only on his mood, maybe. It made John angry, that he was so distant, and that they didn't feel the same things anymore. That they've disconnected.

The locker room was silent, more silent than ever. Even Diego was quiet, even though he usually couldn't shut up with his angry portuguese chatter after they've lost. Jose wasn't there, he never was, he always talked to them day after the match. You'd think that some players finally started bad mouthing him, but no, it still hasn't happened, thank god. He wouldn't know how to play a captain role right now, if he had to. So he's just grateful that they're still united. United in being shit, maybe, and looking like they're all ready for their funerals, but still. It gave him hope, beacuse if there ever was one thing he loved about this club more than anything, it was the fact that it was his home, his family. And god, how glad he was they haven't lost this feeling of unity yet.

He heard Gaz talking quietly to Asmir, about how sorry he was about some mistake he's made, and on the other day, he would probably lift his head to say that he played good, that it didn't matter, that he always feels at ease when he thinks about Gaz and then Kurt leading the defense after he retires, but. He'd use some cheering up himself, and he knew his words wouldn't sound sincere, not to Gary at least.

So he didn't move, didn't even twich. He just sat there, trying to tune out the chatter, concentrating on beating of his own heart, on inhaling and exhaling. He was making a good job of it - he was alive, he was fine, everything was fine.

He didn't notice him, didn't see him approaching. Suddenly, someone was sitting on his left side, in the spot that was empty for over a year now, and put their hand on John's shoulder. And, of course, it was him.

"Lampsy," he exhaled, not able to put more power into his voice, weak, weak as always when put in front of this man.

Frank smiled at him, eyes all crinkly, and awkwardly patted him on the shoulder.

"Hi, mate. How you copin?"

It was wrong, all wrong, this 'mate', this casual tone, that they were going to pretend that it was all about Chelsea, only about Chelsea, and not them.

"Fine, I guess."

The silence between them spoke volumes and John couldn't, wouldn't take it anymore. The spot Frank touched burned him, almost, but he would lit himself on fire if it meant feeling Frank again.

"I missed you."

He was surprised, it was easy to tell by his wide eyes, by how he immediately touched his tie to fix it, only to busy himself with something. And John thought that he spilling his emotions on the least appropriate occassions wouldn't come by as a surprises to Frank anymore.

But he had to say it, because it was the only way for them to survive. They had to come clean and communicate, and if John had to be the brave one, so be it.

"I miss you, actually. Even right now. I miss talking to you, like, really talking and I miss seeing you."

The hand was back on John's shoulder, gripping it now, like before. They used to hold each other tight, too tight sometimes, after scoring a goal or...on different occassions. They always needed this confirmation, _yes, you're here, I can grab you, I can touch you, I can do whatever I want._ Sometimes, they needed bruises, they needed blood, but the feeling between them - it was always gentle, it was always caring (and also always there). And, after few long seconds of uncertainity, Frank nodded.

"I miss you too."

And maybe everything was going to shit, maybe Jose was getting fired and all the tears were likely to spill, but when Frank shifted closer, when they knees touched and when the older man wrapped one of his hands around John's neck and second around his waist, pulling him into a suffocating hug, it all seemed almost unimportant. It _was_ unimportant, because Frank's fingers were tangling into John's short hair, and Frank's cheek was pressed to John's. He could feel every breath Frank took, he could inhale this smell which was so undoubtedly _Frank_ , he could almost taste the lips which whispered _'Sorry it's the way it is_ ' in his ear. He shook his head and smiled against Frank's hair.

"It doesn't matter. All that matters is you're here now."

**Author's Note:**

> I really needed some Lamperry moment to cheer me up after today's defeat, and a hug looks like something we all Chelsea stans need, so. Here it is!  
> How was it?  
> I still don't have a beta lmao, and I wrote it very quickly so sorry for mistakes.  
> I'm birickgrimes on tumblr!  
> I like kudos and comments :)


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